


liebestrunken

by queenliest (orphan_account)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2830754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/queenliest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael is drunk, and you try to put him to bed. He invites you to dance with him instead.</p><p>
  <b> [Michael Clifford/Reader] </b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	liebestrunken

* * *

Michael was acting like an idiot. 

You had already guessed that he’d had one too many beers—courtesy of the number of alcoholic supplies stocked in your fridge—by the way he was acting. 

The two of you were in your kitchen. You were sitting on top of the counter while he was standing in the middle of the room—area, whatever you could call it—holding two bottles of beer in his hands. He was singing a popular pop song—by the tune of his singing and the lyrics he was uttering, you guessed that he was singing Katy Perry’s _Teenage Dream._ He was swaying and dancing to his own out-of-tune beat, moving his torso and gyrating his hips every now and then. He was giggling and laughing like crazy, flailing his beer-holding arms every once in a while. He looked cute; he looked as though he was remembering every single one of the funny memories he’d had over the years. 

“ **(Your Name)** ,” he called your name, beckoning you over to join him. “Come here and let’s have fun!” 

You lifted yourself off from the countertop, and walked toward him. He handed you one of the beers he was holding and you accepted it, placing it on the table beside you. 

“Michael,” you said. Your tone was that one of a warning, and Michael momentarily stopped what he was doing to pay attention and listen to you. You took a deep breath before continuing, “You’re drunk. Let’s go to bed and sleep.” 

“I’m not,” he retorted. He was slurring his words, and that was the last clue that you needed to realize that he was indeed drunk. 

“Michael,” you said again, calling his name. 

“ **(Your Name),** ” he said; he moved closer to where you were; he leaned his head and rested it against your shoulder. 

“You are drunk,” you said. You grabbed the other bottle from his hand, placing it once more on the table beside you. 

He shook his head, and still did not lift his head from your shoulder. 

You placed a hand on his shoulder, and was about to haul him off of you when he did the same, placing a hand on your waist instead of your shoulder. 

“Whoa!” you exclaimed in surprise. 

“Dance with me!” he shouted, and he began swaying again. He lifted his head from your shoulder, looking at you with those hazy but vibrant green eyes of his. 

You paid him no mind, placing a hand on his waist to support his weight. You were still trying to get him off of you; he was clearly drunk and he needed to go to bed, but he took your actions in the wrong way. 

And that was how you ended up slow dancing with Michael—with him twirling you and twirling himself every once in a while—in the middle of your kitchen at 3 in the morning. 

\- 


End file.
